Found
by HalfjeFijnVolkoren
Summary: Voyager's command team is left behind on an alien planet. Time passes, hope of Voyager's return fades and the chance of finding each other in the unforgiving chaos seems to diminish. J/C.
1. Chapter 1

**Janeway's POV:**

We're running and I can't keep up.

I've never been a fast runner. It's always annoyed me. Back at the academy, Cadet DeLuca could be trusted to thoroughly rub my athletic failures in my face. "Nice going, Janeway!" - I was often on the losing team of assault courses at the Academy. We could be in the lead and as soon as it was up to me to maintain the advantage, I would gloriously fail and go down swinging. Day after day I would sneak out of my dorm and exercise. Run, jump, drag logs, deadlifts and burpees – it all couldn't make up for my lack of height and strength. To be honest, my peak endurance wasn't half that of DeLuca. I would keep my excessive regime a secret to others, like De Luca, because even though I had a BMI of 18, no longer menstruated, ate 200 grams of protein a day and couldn't raise my arm in class due to overburdened muscles, I still couldn't keep up with the rest. I hated failure and I still do.

I now silently curse DeLuca with every step my high-heeled feet take in the soft moss. I simply can't move faster.

Thundering drums had appeared from out of nowhere. Tuvok was the first to hear them, I think.

"To the rock formation, now!" Chakotay had ordered.

I'd felt his hand grab my upper arm as though it were that of a child. My tricorder had still been gathering data on the nearing mass that is rapidly closing in on us. The horizon resembled a gushing wound, as though blood was gashing out and colored the hill in a deep dark liquid.

I had squinted my eyes to see more clearly in the light of the sun that was rising behind the nearing horde. If it hadn't been for Chakotay's strong pull I may have stood there even longer.

Every second would have been one too many; we're already lagging behind.

Harry, Tuvok and B'Elanna are ahead of us. They will be first to take cover behind the rocks up ahead. I'm the only one of the group who isn't a fast runner. _Shit._ My mind is racing with rapid speed though. I know the rocks won't bring solace –not from the army that's quickly moving in, nor from the realization that we've vastly underestimated the risk of landing on this mysterious planet.

Chakotay drags me by my right arm. It will hurt later, once the adrenaline has subsided. I stumble. The ground is moist and soft, my knees are wet now. His hand is a safety buoy though- he slides it higher up my arm and keeps me steady.

"…GET!…DOWN!" Harry is far away but manages clear shouts between what must be hurried breaths.

The sponge-like ground cushions my body as I push my head down and taste sand. We made it down just in time.

Harsh, whistling sounds end in abrupt thuds. _*Woosh* *Thud*_

It's only when I stand that I see the sea of arrows that suddenly surrounds us. Long, menacing arrows stand proudly; some with a playful yet treacherous bounce at the fletched end. A realization hits me; we're already within range.

Chakotay's hand carries my weight more than my feet do. His every move is now loaded with an urgency that I recognize from only the most dire of circumstances.

"GET DOWN!" Harry sounds very distant now. They must be close to the relative safety of the rocks. At least they'll have some time, short as it may be, to try and contact Voyager. Only an emergency beam-out will do the trick. Ayala will act quickly, I know.

We let our bodies fall down again.

_*Woosh*,_ another wave of arrows. _*Thud*._ All arrows missed.

"Get up", Chakotay grunts. The front of my uniform is now drenched with dew and streaks of wet hair linger on my face.

I can't resist and look at Chakotay's face. Wet. Stern. Determined to make it to safety. My life is in his hands. Without his physical strength I would never make it in time.

After but a few steps Harry and B'Elanna shout out again "GET DOWN!"

Sand. Wet moss._*Woosh*. *Thud*. _Miss.

I start lifting my upper body.

"STAY DOWN!" My crewmen must have a clear view of both us and the danger that's quickly closing in. I cover my head.

_*Woosh*. *Thud*._ Miss.

Before I know it, Chakotay's hands are under my armpits and I'm lifted to my feet. I'm out of breath. Strong hands keep me up and moving. His wet uniform scrapes against mine as he presses my body against his side. "We're almost there" he assures me although I can see that we have at least 50 meters to go.

"GET DOWN!" Damn.

Again, I reluctantly plunge into the cold moss. With both hands on my head I can't wipe my mouth to get rid of the sand. Chakotay is next to me. We're almost there. Just a little longer.

I tense.

A sharp force pierces my body. I fear that my chest will shatter like glass if I were to exhale so I hold my breath. I brace for pain, but it doesn't come. A prickly sensation – that's all. Prickly and numbing, but engulfing my torso in a fast speed en crawling up my limbs like a thick hot liquid.

Our quick routine could have so easily been repeated a few times more; run-'get down'- sand and wet moss – strong hands – run – repeat. Only once more, maybe twice, and we could have celebrated a safe arrival.

"Stay down" I hear Chakotay's steady voice as he scoots over and covers my body with his. I wonder if he's noticed my injury. I feel the warmth of his hand on my face. His strong, warm hands -they will soon lift me up, then we will run and Harry will be on the look out. Harry, Tuvok and B'Elanna. They will have contacted the ship by now.

"We're almost there" I feel his thumb on my temple. I want to smile. I want him to move his thumb and caress me. My lips don't move.

My limbs feel heavy on the warm moss. It was so cold only seconds ago. "Almost" he says, breathing heavily. 'Almost' it echoes in my head.

The next _*woosh*_ of the arrows is softer.

The _*thud* _that faithfully follows is more friendly now –it's just a dull sound, far away.

I close my eyes.

"COME ON" , my back feels cold and naked as Chakotay stands and separates his body from mine. He grabs my arm and almost sounds elated as he shouts "We'll make it!" In his haste to drag me along he's already several steps away before he freezes.

If only I could speak up. I want to say how sorry I am and that he must keep going; save himself.

He must see the arrow by now. I think it's in my back, or maybe my shoulder. He says something, but I can't make out what it is; his voice is hoarse.

My jaws are glued shut. Something is piercing my gut and I can't breathe. I muster up all my strength to open my eyes but only one will comply. I see the ground flying by beneath me and realize that Chakotay has thrown me over his shoulder.

I'm in good hands. I can close my eyes now.

Suddenly, a tricorder is beeping. I recognize the steady reading of a heartbeat. I must be in sickbay. No, I can't be. "KATHRYN!" I grab onto him. No wait, I can't move.

My head is leaning against his shoulder now. I smell him. Him and moss. I want to stay here. The damn tricorder is still beeping. _Hush._

I hear phasers. Yelling. "….BEAM UP..." Coördinates are being communicated. Fussing. Someone is angry. "KATHRYN". Chakotay sounds desperate, I think. No, no, no, don't cry. Don't make a move. Just keep my face right below yours and stay still.

The beeping of the tricorder slows down.

"Stay with me, Kathryn!"

I've heard him like this before. I died and saw daddy.

"Stay with me, Kathryn."

Of course I will.

"Stay with me, damnit!"

Always.

The familiar sound of Voyager's transporter tingles my ear. My eyelids can't shield my eyes from the slight, familiar burn of its blue light. We're going home.

I slouch onto wet moss and welcome a deep, dark sleep.

-/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\-

"_You're not allowed here." I try to hide my confusion. DeLuca's smug eyes travel up and down my towel. _

"_I figured I'd do you a favor." _

"_Get lost." I say. _

"_Did you know I've been on a mission to Cardassia?"_

"_Sure, I remember every one of your comings and goings."_

_He smirks. "I was shot." He pauses. "I could have been left for dead but a lieutenant dragged me back to our shuttle."_

"_You felt the need to tell me this in the locker room?"_

"_I was just wondering," he steps closer, "could you have dragged me back?"_

_I remain silent. _

"_You'll need more than this to make it here," he pushes the tip of his index finger against my forehead so that it's pushed backward. "You're a weak link, Janeway, you're the only one who doesn't know it yet."_

-/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\-

My bed is rocking unforgivingly and my head is shaken violently. It startles me and I'm rudely awakened.

Sticks rock against my knees and bare shoulders. I lie faced down on something unfamiliar. Drought has reduced my mouth to a mere line. I can feel the pale skin on my upper back is being scorched by harsh sunlight. Chakotay is gone. Someone must tell me what happened.

I must have been in this position for a long time because tensing my neck causes a sharp pain to take hold of my shoulders and spine. I frown and realize my skin is indeed dry; my forehead seems to tear at the slightest movement. I want to make a sound but I don't hear my voice. There are other voices though, deep voices, three of them, at least. They're arguing. I can't understand.

I try to wiggle my chest to feel if my badge is where it ought to be. I'm not sure it is, or if I managed to move at all. My breasts hurt as my weight presses down onto the sticks beneath me. I realize I'm wearing my tank top but no jacket. An attempt to open my eyes results only in tears since my eyes can't adjust to the bright light of the sun.

We seem far, far away from the mossy field. I hear footsteps -boots on gravel, maybe even hoofs. I'm not in a bed, we're moving.

I want to understand. Or sleep. No, stay awake. Stay awake. Stay. Awake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chakotay's POV:**

"_HA…- HA... -CHOO" Tuvok had cringed the moment Tom sprinkled water from his glass on the Vulcan next to him. The carefully selected away team had shared a comfortable silence aboard the Delta Flyer. That is, until Tuvok had turned his seat towards the captain manning the station behind him, and in doing so, had rendered his back defenseless for Paris' mischief. I enjoy watching Kathryn suppress her amusement. _

"_Mister Paris, there is a reason why foods and beverages are restricted to certain areas of the shuttle." Tuvok states._

_Paris innocently wipes his nose "Oh, I'm sorry, did I get you?"_

-/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\-

"Tuvok, SHUT up!"

The chain between my hands deeply cuts the tanned skin of the alien's throat. Veins in his forehead look like they're about to burst. His eyes resemble cueballs and seem about to pop out as they stare straight into mine. I won't release my hold on his ears – even though I may have partly ripped one off his head. His spittle mingles with my sweat, that's still dripping down on him.

"Commander, how will this affect-"

"TUVOK!"

"COMMANDER, consider-"

Finally, alien hands manage to relinquish my hold on the sorry excuse for a man beneath my body. I struggle forward but I'm no longer in charge of my movements. They push me against a wall and edges of stone pierce the skin in my arm and lower back.

The scrawny one keeps yelling and pacing back and forth between Tuvok and me. His language resembles Klingon – I can't make sense of this one either, and I won't be going to without my commbadge.

"Tuvok." My hardheaded security officer says while pointing at himself. "Chakotay" He points at me.

"For fuck's sake," I grunt. "TUVOK! DAMNIT! FIGHT!" I fail to jolt him into action.

We're in a cell with only six of the dark skinned aliens. This is our chance. One of them barely reaches my shoulders but is apparently in charge. Another is coughing violently, thanks to me.

An elbow hits me hard in the jaw. It takes a few seconds for the amount blood to build up in my mouth. I spit in an alien face and a vengeful fist hits my chest. I exhale sharply and they seize the opportunity to chain me to a ring in the wall.

The short, yelling alien is the last to step out of the cell. His hair is longest and most elaborately braided.

"Commander, we stand no chance without our badges and weapons. We should wait for an opportunity to present itself and-"

"I gave you an order!"

"As I said, we-"

"This wás our opportunity – you saw their numbers, you really think-"

"Comman-"

"Tom isn't going to show up anymore - if he could we'd already be back on the Flyer and gód knows where the captain is! Next time I say 'fight' you fíght, is that understood?!"

Tuvok sighs heavily. He remains kneeled and unchained while I awkwardly shift in my wristchains.

"Yes, sir."

Of all the people I could end up with it had to be this stubborn asshole. B'Elanna would have been all over them - no questions asked. Why only _our_ transport failed is still a mystery to me.

We share a short silence. I catch my breath.

"The captains default action in times of crisis is to form an alliance or cooperation with whoever is at hand-" He starts coldly.

"-her second is self-sacrifice and being a stubborn hard ass!" I fail to restrain myself and continue with a raised voice, "Let's get to her before that-"

"We should establish communication-"

"LISTEN TO-" I stop myself. This is going badly. I take another deep breath and decide to muster up much needed patience.

"Our first priority is to get to the captain." I sit against the wall and let my arms dangle under the ring that holds my chain. Neither one of us has mentioned the possibility of her death.

"Understood."

_Regroup at an appointed location or at the last place of contact._ Let's see, what else does the Starfleet-bible say about these situations. _Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape._ What else. _Resist with discretion, play dumb, _-all pretty redundant if you ask me. _Name, rank, date of birth_, no, _name, rank, position,_ no- maybe it was _origin_. I forgot what I'm required to state in case of captivity. Laughable, really. Who cares? _Well,_ _Kathryn would._


	3. Chapter 3

**Janeway's POV:**

_The white sheet that covers my head isn't enough to protect me from the unforgiving daylight. I sense I'm no longer alone in my bed. Unwillingly, I open my eyes and see Phoebe's beautiful smile. The smile I offer in return instantly reduces into soundless sobs._

_She strokes my tears away and kisses my face. The now brightly lit getaway under my sheet is finally less lonely. She rests her forehead against mine, caresses my hand and cries with me._

_Mother must already have told her. Dad died._

-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-

I hear children's laughter. I wonder, for a fleeting second, if somehow it could be Phoebe. Silly; she's grown and lives her life light-years away from mine.

My stiff body needs time before it can move. Lying on my left side has rendered my arm numb and patches of skin on my back seem to burn. A linen-like textile is draped over me. All I see are it's bright green fabric and the wooden boards I lie on. Children are laughing beneath me. I tilt my head slightly and peek through a crack to find youthful faces gaping upward. They screech with delight and push each other out of the way to get a glimpse of me. My eyelashes touch the floor as I blink. The mischievous youngsters suddenly disperse, all but one; a boy remains. He has an innocent face and pitchblack, carefully braided hair. He fearlessy reaches up, lips pressed together, brown eyes enlarged with excitement. His little hand can't reach me though. A squeaking sound behind me startles him and he quickly runs off.

An old, moody voice mutters something indistinguishable.

Footsteps alternate with the soft thud of a cane on the floor. A vague shadow slowly circles me and reaches down next to my head. I don't think I can move so I opt for my only alternative; I remain still and seemingly unconscious. Small hands remove the linen and carefully turn my face upward. I can't resist looking at the face above mine. A dark silhouette gradually gains featured as my eyes adjust to the light. The old woman has deep wrinkles and speaks soft and soothing words that I don't understand. They seem so routinely that they meld into a chant, or maybe a lullaby. She kisses my face. The gesture reminds me of Phoebe, but this time I don't welcome the intimacy. I lazily exhale while she rubs a cold substance under my nose.

The moment I take in its scent, my brain clicks into its usual alert and fast pacing mode. It must've triggered an inhalation reflex, much like ammonia.

"My crew." I say breathing heavily.

She smiles and nods.

"Where are they?"

I'm quick to grab her wrist as she reaches down again. It doesn't stop her from smiling and nodding even, not even when I sit up and assess the state of my body and my surroundings. Apart for my painful back, a throbbing headache and an insatiable hunger I appear to be fine. Nothing out of the order in that department -which can't be said about the room I'm in. Small cups form a circle around me, they contain some smoldering incents. Delicate plumes of smoke playfully whirl upward. The ceiling is high, a hole in the top offers the smoke a way out. I look down and find I wear a longsleeved wrap that resembles a tight robe. The woman keeps on nodding and smiling as she says words that I think are meant to reassure me. She can't give the information I need and I, somewhat disappointed, let go of her wrist.

I position myself at the hinged side of the door through which the old lady had entered. A slight push leaves the door ajar. Several faces immediately peek through from a distance so I decide to push further. My gaze carefully follows my stretched arm as the scene on the other side of the door unfolds. A group of at least a hundred people had gathered in front of the elevated cabin. They wait patiently as if standing in line. Their silence is broken as they warn each other of my presence in rushed whispers. They sit up, poke each other in the chest, some point at me. Eager to exit my eerie confine I step out, tentatively walk down a few well-crafted steps and I observe them just like they do me. I feel as though I were a teacher reentering a classroom, looking for the culprit who vandalized the chalkboard or covered the chair with glue. Anticipation lingers in the silent air as no one moves except for a few nervous shuffles to let me pass through. After the first reaches out to tentatively touch my hair others soon follow. They touch my hair and face but step aside when I come near. It occurs to me that I can simply walk away. Leave. Search for my four friends who beamed down to this planet with me.

The town is small and rural, situated in a valley surrounded by vast mountains with white peaks. A similar sight had once excited me, when those mountain peaks had been situated in the Swiss Alps and I had been equipped with skis, quality gear and two experienced cousins. It was different now - the mountains form more effective barriers than barbed wire, concrete walls or even a force field ever could.

I'm impatient. I don't know where I am or where my away team is. I look for leads, points to start from - anything to jolt me into action. Unfortunately though, I'm solely surrounded by clueless people that stare at me with an undefined expectation. Loose farm-animals muck around elevated cabins built from timber and thatch. A woman is breastfeeding and sighs as though I'm taking too long with whatever performance I'm expected to give. I ponder if I should indeed just walk away; see how far I can get. They must have some sort of supply route. I could follow the river downstream, get away from these mountains - I wouldn't need to worry about sweet water which the river can provide. I'll need food and shoes. A close study of this planets stars will help to keep me on route.

Suddenly, a small soft hand takes mine and I look down to see the old lady. She's muttering again, or maybe still. I nod and smile at her - I could use all the help I can get. She taps her cane against my kneepits and pulls me in a direction I hadn't pondered before; it's upstream -not where I'm headed. Still, I follow, and so does the whole village.

We pass more inhabitants; everyone smiles and reaches for my hair. Children shreek as they run past me and pull my sleeves. Playing the role of Pied Piper doesn't suit me but I seem to have little choice in the matter; with no chronometer or duty roster in sight, no one is in a hurry and they all take their time. They're calm and peaceful, their skin is tanned and all have long, black hair. I wonder how they can keep their colorful clothes so immaculately clean while doing the work they do.

The ever-growing crowd opens and leaves two men standing in an open circle. One: tall and lean, intricate embroidery on his robe, content face, hands folded behind his back. _He's the guy to befriend. _The other: standing behind the first, a little shorter, corners of his mouth point downward, he carries a longbow. I recognize the fletching on the arrows in his satchel. He could have killed us.

The kind one bows courteously. His crows feet betray his age -he's older than he first appears. "My name is Kathryn Janeway. I'm looking for my friends." I know he didn't understand that but I step toward him and offer him my hand. He enthusiastically mimics my gesture without touching my hand – _good enough_. He waves for me to follow him inside a cabin with elaborate carvings. I can tell they're old. They remind me of Newari woodcarvings back on Earth where, hundreds of years after completion, snakelike dragons and elaborate peacocks still lively adorn traditional temples. The armed man stays outside, as does my unwanted audience.

I take in the inside of the house. It's sober but inviting and very orderly. My bare feet have dirtied the floor behind me. I feel out of place. When I turn back to him he is carefully handling some bundle with such excessive consideration that it somehow strikes me as self-righteous. Wherever he got the clothed bundle from so quickly, he slowly and solemnly unfolds it to expose its contents. I move towards it.

My loss instantly hits me as though a brick fell form my throat, scraped away my heart along the way and crashed into my gut. I can feel my fingers and feet tingling, the room and its carvings blurr. The ammonia must've worn off.

They're small and lifeless, but his possession of the three commbadges might imply the unthinkable.

I grab one and slap it on to my chest. _Fuck niceties._

"How did you get these?"

-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-

I stand knee-deep in the river that, mere minutes ago, I had considered to be an aid in my escape. I'd had to get away from the blurred woodcarvings, my dirty footsteps on the his floor and the unknowing alien to whom the badges don't signify what they do to me. Anything was better than the picture he'd painted me_ -anything._ I'd started walking -as far away as I could, in no particular direction. So here I stand, gasping for air, begging the universe for the impossible.

I feel prying eyes in my back and sharp gravel under my feet. The water is icy cold, even though the refracting sunlight deceives you into thinking otherwise, and my pale feet are white as snow in its clarity. The overwhelming vista of the nature around me is intimidating and I have nothing but a strangers, now half wet robe to shield me from it. These mountains are insurmountable. I could keep walking. Start swimming. Get away. Forget what the leader of this community had said. It wouldn't matter really.

"Your friends had no tribe, bore no markings on their skin, wore no braided hair – they belong to no one." Worst case scenario; slavery, even there they would be pariahs with no gang to protect them. Best case scenario: quick and painless death. The raider who had handed over the badges had gotten the relics off of thieves - or so the alien said. That would apparently mean certain death. Case closed. Executed for stealing _relics._ Their own badges. Simple little pieces of shit, cheap and easily replaced.

I, of all people, know how it feels to be utterly lost. This is far worse and new, even to me. I am alone and without choice. Nothing here is worth a sacrifice, nothing is worth a fight. Nothing holds enough worth to persevere or hope. What is life when alone on a desolate planet? Brutely ripped away from everyone I love, _again_. I'd prefer non-existence. The river may swallow me whole.

B'Elanna. Harry. Chakotay. Tuvok - only two of them live. A dark, forbidden hope creeps into my mind and I instantly curse myself for it.

I open a hand palm and drop two badges in the water. They're utterly worthless without their owners.

I look up at the sky and taste my tears. Voyager, grandiose and majestic as she is, won't appear like she had done before, offering deliverance, relief and safety. Not now, after all this time; I had apparently been deliriously raving and convulsing for almost a month. The poisonous arrow in my upperback had been responsible for that. No Voyager. No Delta Flyer. No away team.

-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-

_The messhall doors woosh open and I instantly regret that the stiff atmosphere won't be of help. Skilled conversationalists understand that there can be more power in silence than in empty words. Instead of desperately filling empty space with meaningless sentences, or 'um's' and 'uh's', I'd rather wait until someone has something good to add. That, unfortunately, may not be a good strategy here. _

_Starfleet sit with Starfleet, Maquis with Maquis. Their sole commonalities being a shared uniform, the nuisance that is Neelix and a not too confident membership of this bipartisan crew. _

_Most of them hunch over their square table, I'm sure it's their way of keeping passersby from accidentally overhearing gossip or expressions of discontent. _

_Apart from a few polite nods and ' Ma'ams' , my entrance in the Mess invokes the reaction of staring at me sideways while sharing whispers, some with jaws visibly tensed. _

_Chakotay sits in a corner, legs stretched and arms folded, a former Maquis talks to him. He sits up as I approach and raises a hand to silence the goldshirt "As I said, I have dinnerplans. Dismissed."  
_

_"Yes. Commander. Captain, goodday"  
_

_"Likewise, Ensign"  
_

_I place the padd in front of Chakotay.  
_

_"Please, sit down." He stands slightly so we sit down simultaneously. His attitude has vastly changed now that he's dealing with me. _

_"What's this?" _

_"My effort to be on equal footing." I try to sound breezy. _

_He smiles and frowns in confusion. _

_"I read your file. It was thorough." I point towards the padd. "That's mine. Feel free. I trust you delete its contents when you're through with it." _

_He doesn't move._

_"I see." _

_He takes the padd and pushes several keys before placing it back on the table. I see its index is clear. _

_"I'm through with it." For a moment I fear I made a mistake but he chuckles. "How about," he leans forward just like the other crewmembers enjoying their tense meal "-you tell me whatever you want me to know," I can't help but to lean in as well "- I respect your privacy and you-" he slightly curves down the corners of his mouth and raises his shoulders as if he was an Italian mafioso striking a deal "I'll just trust you to be discrete with whatever knowledge you have about me." _

_"Your own intelligencefile was on there to, you know." _

_"I'm sure there's nothing I don't know yet." _

_"Yes, that would be surprising." _

_We share a knowing look. _

_"Thank you though, I appreciate the gesture." He says. _

_"I am proud to inform you Captain, I am studying the cuisines of all species aboard Voyager and.." Neelix holds up one finger before he continues "-severals from Earth. They. Are. Thrilling! Today, I am serving a delicious Wie-ner Schnit-zel, baked in both butter and oil, ha!" The overly-giddy man over-articulates German words and makes me long for the solitude of my Ready Room. " For the sweettooths among us I am not too modest to say I have a wonderful Ap-fel-stru-del, allthough-" he continues in a hushed tone "I must admit having some trouble with the dough, it's so thin you see and there may at some places be some very slight-" _

_"Just surprise me, Neelix." For a moment I think he'll jump with excitement but he contains himself . I had mentally prepared myself for an adventurous meal. I guess I'm lucky it's no Klingon dish. _

_"Commander?"_

_"Same for me." Neelix hurries to his kitchen and then there it is. Silence. _

_"Have you eaten here before?" He asks._

_"No, I must admit that I haven't." Why do I act surprised?  
_

_"Ah. " _

_"...busy" I say._

_"Of course." _

_Silence. _

_"You?" I try._

_"No." _

_"Ah." _

_"Busy." He echoes. We smile politely and avert our eyes. _

_"Right" _

_Wildman and Celes quickly redirect their attention as I catch them looking at us. _

_"Have you had a chance to look at the plasma-" I stop myself. " No, you know what; I wasn't going to mention ships business." _

_"Then let's not." _

_I notice Ayala looking for a free seat, the only free chairs being at 'Starfleet-tables'. Chakotay sees it too. He rests his elbows on the table and his chin on his thumbs. His face darkened somehow.  
_

_We've agreed on the basics; this is a Federation vessel, we follow the Directive and merge our crews. It now appears to me that that had been the easy part.  
_

_"This will get easier, you know." He says with a warm voice. I look into his eyes, "I-"  
_

_"Two Stru-del with whipped cream and vanillasauce, only my fifth try, ha! The eggyolks just kept curdling-" Neelix hammers on until we're finally left alone again. _

_"About that padd" He looks at the now empty device on our table, "was there anything you wanted me to know?" _

_"Not particularly-" I take a small bite. "-anything you want to know?" _

_He puts down his fork and sits back. I didn't expect that. _

_"A lot actually." _

_"Oh?"_

_"We'll be working together for quite a while, I hope to get to know you better than just what your favorite evasive manoeuvre is."_

_"Actually, I prefer assault mode" I say jokingly. " No, I'd like to get to know you to." I inhale sharply. "Let's see, what do you like, what makes you happy?" _

_He studies his plate. Is that a difficult question for him? _

_"Not German pastry." His tone is serious. "Well," I match his demeanor "-thank god this is Austrian then."  
_

_We laugh.  
_

_"Actually, meditation helps me stay centred. To be honest, I've been finding that hard to do lately." I'm glad he's willing to be vulnerable. I want to show him I'm interested, empathetic, but I'm not sure what's appropriate to ask. "If you like I can show you someday. My people have spirit guides, you could meet yours."  
_

_"Thank you. I think I'll take you up on that."  
_

_"What about you?" He asks.  
_

_"Coffee."  
_

_"Coffee?" I feel as though my mundane answer devalues his haertfelt one. He seems a little dissapointed.  
_

_"It's a thing. You'll see." I'm serious but he finds it funny. He leans back, stretches his legs -much like he had done before-, pushes back his plate and pulls a chair toward him to rest his arm upon. I can imagine these small chairs and table restrain his large posture. He tilts his head and looks out the viewport with somewhat squinted eyes. He's not about to let me get away with so little selfrevelation as 'coffee'._

_"A more interesting question might be.." he's got my full and undevided attention, for some reason. "Let's see." A short pause. _

_"What's something that no one would guess about you?" _

_He smiles and I raise my eyebrows as if to accuse him for being happy to come up with this question. _

_"I don't know what people would guess about me, though, do I." I counter.  
_

_"I'm sure you do." _

_I chuckle. "If I were to guess what people would guess about me," I look at him accusingly, playfully blaming him for my rediculous hypothesizing, "I would say-" I think for a while, this is actually quite tricky. "I would say they'd guess I'm from a well-to-do family, a perfectionist, all Fleet-no fun, quite tough and I can think of some people back home who'd think of me as a product of nepotism." _

_I wonder if that was too honest._

_"Would they'd be guessing right?" _

_"Sure," I say confidently, "some parts are true." _

_He nods and doesn't ask me what parts those would be.  
_

_"So what's something they wouldn't guess?"  
_

_"That I deserve to be where I am and that I worked very hard to get here."  
_

_"No." He states flatly. He pauses a little too long as if to keep me dangling -keep me waiting for further explanation. "I would definitely guess that about you." _

_I chuckle and before taking another bite I ask "Your turn, what wouldn't people guess about you?" _

_I struggle to get a good bite of my Strudel -the sauce is curdled, the cream too fatty and there are raw bits of dough in the middle. I look up to see what's keeping him from answering my question. He takes his time to scan the room, looks at me and simply says _

_"They'd never guess I like you."  
_

-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-

"Listen to our proposal" the man with the kind face and intricately embroidered robe had walked into the water and stands behind me. I know many others stand frozen on the riverbank - silently staring, waiting for us to move or speak.

I sob. And cover my face with my hands.

"The depth of your sorrow is only as deep as the love you held for that loss."

He pauses.

"If you could bear the affection than you can suffer the loss."

I snort angrily and kneel in the water, cutting the skin on my knees.

"Let go of them, open your heart for others that need you -here and now."

I lean forward and let the rocks cut into my fingers.

"Look at them" He persists. I have no interest in looking at his people. Chakotays face is clear in my mind.

I stand. Raise my chin and inhale. Both my hands are bloody and hold wet commbadges. My mind is made up as I turn to the kind faced general, one stretched arm frozen in a gesture toward the people by the riverbed.

I wade back to the village, ready to regain strengt and regroup. My robe is heavy now but I won't let it drag me down.

"You'll have to fight your own battle." I state as I walk past him.

He is displeased with my sudden determination and pleads with me "-wait".

His people stand confused, their eyes jump back and forth between him, standing alone and wet to the knees, and me; confidently striding towards them, bloody fists tightly clenched.

I've sacrificed enough for the wellbeing of strangers. Not this time.

I know he'll hear me as I say "They're not dead until I see their corpses."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chakotays POV:**

No wounds. Not extremely skinny or unhealthy looking. Just still. I see it immediately. You don't understand when people warn you for your first. 'How exactly can you tell?' -you ask, but once you're confronted with it, you simply understand.

I've been confronted with death many times in my life, especially during my time with the Maquis. So often in fact, that I no longer see the lifeless face of my father with every body that I encounter. I remember the dreadful day well though, the day that would end in my deciding to join the rebellion, the day that was the first in a period marked by many dead faces. My sister had gone frantic as I calmly, and with only one hand, held her by the front of her sweater to keep her by my side -the fistful of fabric somehow giving me strength in return. 'Don't,' I'd said softly as she kept trying to get to our father. I wanted to keep this from her -he'd always been her everything. 'We have to take him down! Look at him!' she'd cried. I'd just shaken my head. I'd seen it before, she hadn't. I remember his face was small and strangely unfamiliar, his elongated neck looked alien -gravity had had its effect on his body. Cardassians had hung him above the stairs across the front door; we'd almost collided with him as we stormed inside. We'd come too late. 'Don't' was all I could tell Sekaya that day.

"Don't" I now say to Tuvok. He hadn't noticed and was about to wake the still figure leaning against the beam. "He'll start to smell if we move him," I say. Realization dawns on the Vulcan face, he pauses shortly, then reaches over the body to look through the crack above it. "Birds" he coolly confirms our suspicion. I take a deep breath of relief. We hadn't heard these birds before. There's a chance they live near the coastline, which could mean we'll dock soon.

We had foolishly welcomed all changes so far. They'd all gotten us into deeper shit though. Enduring endless uncertainty in a sweaty cell had turned out to be preferable over backbreaking labour, which in turn had turned out to be far better than the eight days in the belly of this moldy ship. Water reaches to our ankles and whenever we step out of our hammock we have to be careful not to step on rodents -they bite and could be carrying diseases. Now, yet another change of circumstance seems to be approaching, but this time it's bound to be an improvement -I simply can't imagine anything worse.

I have come to respect the man I had previously kept at arm's-length. Vulcans don't moan or lose themselves in self-pity. They're not optimistic but they're also not pessimistic, which makes him the more positive one of us two. He is strong, a team player at heart -I may mistake strategic self-preservation for altruism but I'll gladly make that mistake- and the lack of nourishment doesn't seem to effect his sharp mind. I can't say the same for me.

We move back to our hammocks, careful not to disturb any of the others. The birds have given me hope and I'm impatient to take action, unwilling to lie down. The first step to escape is to get off this ship. I stretch my back and roll my head. Tuvok senses my restlessness and humors me by starting a conversation: "Voyager must be nearing Konjar space."

"Maybe not, Seven had calculated an alternative route," I say.

We sit opposite each other. This ships hold is so low we can't stand up straight and the hammocks hangs less than an inch above the water. Our perched up knees almost touch. There's no way to get comfortable in here.

I cough. He won't admit this but I'm not the only one in bad shape. I can't see his face in the darkness of this hold but I can tell he's lost weight again. I wonder if I would still recognize myself in a mirror.

"I was under the impression Seven had plotted an optimal route through Konjar space," he says.

"As soon as that emissary had mentioned an expert on white holes I knew Captain Janeway would want to reach out to him. She kept talking about it all day." I'm thankful for the memory and chuckle. "-even spent half the night in Astrometrics -analyzing causal structures of spacetimes containing white holes - she's not one to show up unprepared" My misplaced pride seeps through, I don't care what the Vulcan makes of that. I just wish I could see her that intrigued one more time. Anything from a nebula to a supernova could have the mysterious power to turn her into an overly excited schoolgirl. She'd speak in slightly hushed tones, her hands would dart over whatever formula, diagram or star chart had fascinated her and I would watch her; as enticed with her as she would be with the data on display. I could always see her coming from afar -wheedling, sweet-talking me into convincing the senior staff to go explore and take the detour. I'd gladly budge, obviously.

"I remember the Daaro-emissary mentioning him. It would be a considerable detour," he says.

I raise my shoulders, unwilling to end my musings and focus on the specifics. "...a few days, maybe a week. She hadn't given Paris the order yet." No answer. We both know; Kathryn hadn't had the chance to give the order, yet another anomaly had shown up on sensors - this damn planet. Voyagers acting captain may have decided on the shortcut through Konjar space after all. Paris isn't exactly a science buff and won't care about the 'white hole' -guy. Still, I like the idea of Voyager following up on Kathryns intent.

We share a short silence. I wonder if he ponders the possibility of our Captains death.

"Do you miss your wife?" It's an out of line question but somehow that doesn't matter anymore. Conversations with Tuvok are often exchanges of facts, me; solely obsessed with escape, he; observing and enumerating countless details of this world and its social structure. I think he can afford a more calculated and long-term strategy than me; I simply don't have the patience. We're an effective team, he and I, but I'm desperate for sentiment.

"I do." He says finally.

Silence.

"How do you miss her if you don't have emotions?"

"A common misperception. My emotions, although suppressed, are strong and ever-present."

"I see."

Silence.

"I've actually never understood that."

I'm half surprised he explains further; "Vulcans nearly destroyed themselves through violence and aggression. It was only when my people accepted Surak's philosophy on logic, stoicism and mental suppression, that we mastered our emotions." His voice is low and hoarse. "I find there is great strength in emotion, as there is in the oppression of it. It is in finding this balance that, according to Surak's philosophy, enables one to live a fulfilled, peaceful and productive life."

The man may now be a mere silhouette but I find myself more akin to him than I had ever before. "I can see that. I have struggled to find such a balance myself." I hesitate to go on.

"I am curious, commander." He says calmly and still refuses to let ranks go. "Did you ever find it?"

"Yes-" My voice betrays me. I swallow before I can continue "-or at least I can now imagine the feeling."

"Our status-quo is, per definition, temporary. You may yet find peace."

I shake my head. "No. Not anymore." For once, I'm thankful for the darkness and wipe my eyes. "Tell me." I swallow, unsure if I really want to know his take on this. "Do you think she's dead?"

-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-/\\-

_"Get the fuck down or we'll come up and drag you by the hair!"_

_"Good! Luck!" I'm surprised the reply had come from far above. _

"_Making friends?" I'm amused at the striking contrast between Sveta and her surroundings. The central staircase of the complex is a delicately structured helix that rises up to a gilded dome. Warm sunlight trickles down on the black and gold floral pattern that covers the whole of a grand hexagonal floor. The Rahman Kahn Institute of Computer Aided Engineering is a marvel, not just for its beauty but also for its astonishing collection of top-level designs and prototypes. I stand in awe of this place. It's hard to imagine it will be a crater within a matter of minutes. _

_I walk up to my friend in the middle of the floor and look up. Dizzied by the winding stairs and the brightness of the dome – it takes a minute for me the find Sveta's latest problem; long brown curls hang over the top balustrade. A woman stretches her arms over the railing to show us how she pulls back the slide of a gun. Sveta was tasked to place explosives in the central hall and she does not like to be the last one to finish . _

_I sigh. "We can't have this now." _

_Sveta doesn't move, eyes fixed on the railing in question with her head somewhat cocked to the side, one hand at the hip she leans on, the other casually dangling a TR-116 rifle. She slowly leans forward, spits on the impeccable floor pattern and looks back up. "Nope."_

_Svetlana 'Sveta' Petrova is a tall, skinny blonde with good sets of tits and brains, not to forget: an expert in demolition. In short: the perfect woman –on paper that is; she's as outrageous and explosive as her bombs. Her head is partly shaved and a dramatic comb-over of bright blonde hair reveals the tattoo of a beluga whale above her ear; 'I wanted the vodkabottle, not the fucking fish' she'd said after a drunken night. Not that she cares; she finds vanity a hobby for the dimwitted and to make her point she shares clothes with the men, bites her nails and swears like a Klingon. I praise the day I met her. _

"_We mean you no harm!" I try. _

_No response. _

"_We are blowing up the building, you ne-"_

"_The Hell You Are!" She woman yells. _

_Sveta and I look at each other in confusion. _

"_What is she doing?" I say. She lifts her shoulders. "I'll approach her from behind" Sveta winks in agreement, she'll know to keep the woman distracted long enough for me to ambush her. _

_I calmly walk up to a nearby elevator and set my rifle to stun. Five floors. I push the top button and a familiar tune accompanies me upwards. Where do I know this from? Great- I'll be thinking of this all day. I shake my head in annoyance. This stubborn lady with her firearm isn't making this routine job any easier. Damn civilians. I shoot the lift-control right before the last 'ding' as not to alert the lady of my presence. As soon as the lift doors open I hear glass shattering. Cardassian soldiers rappel down from the dome and start shooting around them. _

"_Ghay'cha!" I hear the brown-haired lady mere meters away from me. _

"_Those Cardassians are in dire need of hardware-upgrades," I yell at her "-we are Maquis and eager to stop that from happening." _

_No answer. _

"_I mean you no harm, but stay and you'll die." _

"_My ship is busted," she says "I came here for parts and I can't leave without them."_

_Three soldiers jump onto the railing behind her but three decisive shots from my phaser pushes them backward, their ropes save them from falling to their deaths. "Time to go!" I yell. _

_We head back down where Sveta is waiting for us, rifle aimed at the ever approaching enemy. _

"_She's coming with us." I tell her as we start running. _

"_Then ask her!" Sveta yells. _

_"No!" Sveta wants me to check if the girl could make the cut but so far, I've learned three things about the brunette: she's foulmouthed, stubborn and her ridges betray she's half Klingon. I have no need for misunderstood loners, looking for a fight. I've got enough of those. _

_I'm sickened by the idea of every recruit who is eager to find status and a sense of self-worth within the folds of the Maquis. At first, I thought they were like me; wronged and impatient to set things right, believing to find inner peace in the fight for justice. War is no fight for justice, however. The romantic search for glory in the battlefield is easily quenched by the nauseating smell of blood mixed with the burning smell of overloaded relays. No, the girl should choose a nice, peaceful life and stay far from here. _

"_I'm getting her to safety and that's the last she'll see of us!" Sveta knows better than to push it any further. _

"_So what's your name, gorgeous?" Sveta can't resist, even in the middle of our escape. _

"_Torres," the girl shouts over the gunfire "B'Elanna Torres."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Janeways POV**

_**..high residual energy signature indicates repeated weapons fire. The deuretanium hull was transported for further analy-**_

_"Kath!"_

_"hmm? Oh -I'm sorry, what?"_

_"Nothing," he sighs, "never mind."_

_I give him a hurried smile that I know doesn't reach my eyes and move my weight from one hip to the other. _

_** ...was transported for further analysis at Deep Space Nine. The energy signature was identified to be Cardassi-**_

_"Kath!"_

_"What?"_

_"I was just saying that DaVinci combined the spiritual with the homoerotic -incredible, right?"_

_I finally take in the painting of a feminine looking young man, scantily clad in pelts, pointing upward. "What's spiritual about it?" I ask plainly._

_"I *just* read you the plaque."_

_"Oh, sorry, I was reading a newsreport -another Maquis shuttle torpedoed. It's escalating."_

_Mark nods lazily, puts his hands in his pockets and says "I'm off."_

_"No, wait- I want to know, why is it spiritual?" I quickly grant my padd one last look to add the article to my list of interests. It was one too many. "It's fine," he says "I'll hail you when I'm ready to go."_

_I exhale and let my arms and shoulders hang. He gives me a chance to add words to my non-verbal disappointment. They don't come. _

_"Enjoy." He says curtly as he walks off. _

_I shake my head and don't watch him walk away. Half a million objects in the Louvre and he expects me to see every one of them. A group of Vulcans move to follow their guide and clear my path to a free bench. I can't believe my luck, it's exactly what I need in this hall that's too crowded for my taste. _

_The suggestive man in DaVinci's painting looks at me as though we share a secret - a risqué one. He's a saint that seduces his admirers with mesmerizing eyes - I'm a fiancé sworn to invest in a relationship that bores me to tears. I shouldn't be thinking that, though -it only makes it worse. I look around and see a couple silently listening to the audio-tour, she has her hand in his back pocket and he has his arm around her. I wonder who's idea it was to come here. I wonder if one of them feigned excitement because he or she had gunned the other down too often and wouldn't risk a fall out. _

_I couldn't even eat. My love for Justin had been all-consuming and he could have dragged me to every museum on Earth - I would gladly have followed. Not that he ever would, Justin would've rebelled in this stiff ambiance, maybe joke about the miniscule genitals of these ancient statues. I can't help but laugh at the thought. He'd place his hand on my lower back and whisper the forbidden words in my ear, I would then hide my amusement and he'd use the psychological momentum to convince me to share a beer in front of the glass pyramid outside. Justin and I had been an unlikely couple - one that dad didn't approve of, even though he'd never tell me. He would approve of Mark, I'm sure. Mark is kind, patient, handsome, successful -he has a good heart and I can honestly say that I love him. It's no first love, of course. I've grown. I can eat now. _

_I rise and walk in Marks general direction. _

_One day, two nights, and I'm back on duty. Just one more day. _

**-/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\-/\\- -/\\-/\\- -/\\-/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\-**

**THE EUNUCHS POV**

"OUT!"

The double doors bounce off the wooden walls and close behind me with a loud bang. Women jolt into action and scurry past me with their heads bent down. I pay them no heed -them nor the product of the diligent work they leave unfinished. Only one figure remains, back toward me and seemingly undisturbed. Her spine is curved over the tableau in front of her and her elbows betray her ongoing activity. She is the object of my intrigue and sole purpose of my journey.

"I am Bahrut Ferhadji," I say as I circle her, "Chief-intendant and humble servant to his highness Moulay DePeyrac, ruler of the Mecenes."

No reaction.

I now face her and tower above her and her meaningless scribbles. She is small and her long hair hides her facial features. The windowless room is candle lit and empty -were it not for working tables in the center and sepia-toned scrolls adorning the walls. There is no distraction or space that can postpone our confrontation. She, however, seems unaffected by her surroundings. It annoys me. For weeks I've been imagining this encounter. Countless many times I greeted her, countless many times I've impressed her, countless many times I've persuaded her to adhere to my every wish –never had I imagined her to bluntly ignore me and remain utterly unmoved.

"So you are the woman that came from the skies."

"You are well-informed" she says matter-of-factly.

I'm quick to respond; "I know everything."

She raises her head slowly. I can feel her eyes travel upward, not lingering on my adorned waistband, ceremonial dagger or mantle patched with royal insignia. Instead, she studies my turban and looks me straight in the eyes –a bold act not many women dare to try.

Her eyes are blue – I wasn't told. Her skin has obviously seen sun but is still lighter than I've ever seen. The hair, though not literally flaming, is no disappointment and I wonder what god has been so kind to even make her beautiful. My liege will be proud of both her and me.

She arches one eyebrow, repositions her elbow and turns her attention back to her writings. Her written words alternate with foreign signs of which I don't know the meaning.

My presence and stature are not enough to impress her. I have been defied before –tribal farm girls who are reluctant to travel to the capital or zealots unwilling to honor King DePeyrac. I never mind the challenge, nor does my liege- the powerplay that follows insubordination is a gratifying game. I want more from her than from an ordinary farm girl though; the game might prove more difficult this time.

I step back, take her in and lean against a beam. I wonder what strategy will prove successful with this enigma.

"I've brought confectionery, incents, the finest fabrics– everything to ensure a woman's satisfaction."

She chuckles with scorn.

"Then again," I muse "-maybe I should know better than to please a deity with such mundane knick-knacks."

"You think I am a deity?" She leans back triumphantly and rests her hands on her lap.

"Whatever you are, you're not from here. Please; enlighten me."

"Oh," she starts "I was told about you, I have no intention to cooperate. Hang me if you like, I won't be joining your harem."

I laugh heartily and throw my head back. "You're quite the fairouz."

"Fairouz?"

"Woman –but more than that; an enticing one, a titillating one" I inform her of the colloquialism. I think she likes her newfound title. "Can you blame my liege for taking an interest?" I continue "His army comes across a woman who has no equal in this land and word reaches him that her hair is a constant flame. It's only logical that he sends me to retrieve what's his."

"The general has taken me in," she counters.

I laugh again. "But, fairouz, the general answers to his King."

She doesn't share my good mood. "It doesn't matter," she says curtly "I'm an explorer who got lost. Nothing more."

"Explorer? Then this village's slow-paced repetition will surely drive you to insanity. As endless days drag into eventless nights you will know that somewhere over these mountains lays the opportunity of an exhilarating life full of endless luxury." I smile. "Staying here will make the passing of time your enemy; boredom does that to intellect." I pause to let my words sink in. This time, my strategy seems to make a bigger impact."You, fairouz, have time in abundance, and nothing other to contemplate but my offer." Another short pause "_Anything that can happen will happen –given enough time_. I'm told it is a mathematical certainty."

She snorts. "Fire your mathematician, he's a fool."

_Finally, a hook_. "Explain."

"Why would I?"

_Damn. _

We stare at each other and I wonder if she's mentally regrouping -like me. Whoever she is, she is a force to be dealt with.

I sigh "I have brought my personal guard. I do not want to force you but…" I walk towards her and, contradictory to my words, kneel at her side; "I've never failed in taming a woman."

Her face remains neutral "I will not be in any harem or be …tamed. I will maim myself before I let that happen," I inhale sharply to respond but she is quick to raise a hand and continues, "-_but_ maybe we can make a deal that would benefit us both."

"Why would I bargain if I am in total control?"

She stands up and circles her working table much as I had before."You need me," her eyes stay on me as though she tries to read my every reaction, not unlike some feline creature awaiting the chance to jump its prey."You need me -you wouldn't be here otherwise- and I'm willing to bet that my cooperation is of value – why else bring those," one hand gestures at the door as she struggles to find the words, "what was it, fabrics and perfumes?" She's unlike anyone I've ever seen; waves off the promise of wealth and comfort as though they are annoying insects. I look down, she's clever. Not at all what I had pictured during my long journey; she's eerily calm, decisive and effortlessly claims the leverage that I hadn't realized was there to claim. She rolls her shoulders back and stands straight "I'm looking for two friends; I lost them when I was taken captive. They wear no tribal-markings. Help me find them."

"Nameless slaves have a short life-expectancy."

"They're alive."

"How do you know?"

"I know," she states, as if it's an obvious premise that only an idiot would question.

I pause. Two slaves without markings would stand out in the mass. It might be a reasonable price for her compliance.

"Diplomacy suits you." I say. "I will consider finding your …_friends_…if it would make you more reasonable."

My compromise doesn't elicit the reaction I was hoping for.

"What would a ..._more reasonable_ version of me be expected to do?"

Something tells me there is no way this woman will be misled. "Address the masses and make them see that the Kings-justice is the ónly justice. Goddess or explorer; whatever you may be, fairouz –you look the part. The Kings Will won't be questioned with a deity of the people by his side."

She raises an arm and leans against the beam in a stance similar to my previous one; a stance unfit for a woman of servitude, a stance of presumption and authority.

"A well respected man once said that religion is the opium of the people. I'd hate to prove him right." She says annoyed.

"Strange," I say, "- opiates are popular in this realm."

**-/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\-/\\- -/\\-/\\- -/\\-/\\- -/\\- -/\\- -/\\-**

_**Janeways POV**_

_No dust. No creases. I kneel in front of the bottom drawer and can't help but feel betrayed; my trustworthy uniform hasn't changed during our time on New Earth and might as well have been placed there yesterday. I lift it up at the shoulder pads and scrutinize it as if I haven't seen it thousands of times before. This is how an arranged marriage must feel; I know it's for the best, I won't object, I'll do what is expected and I'll even smile as I do it. _

_I look to my right, past the kitchencounter and his boatdesign. He's kneeled on the floor as well, he must also have felt the bottom drawer to be most suitable for the uniform. I don't know exactly why, but I hate that he has his back toward me and seems preoccupied. We only have one day and two nights left. 30 hours when Tuvok hailed and 2 have already past. I'm restless. I search for words or actions that can make our last 28 hours more meaningful. _

_He gets up and moves out of my sight. I feel unfulfilled. Empty. Wanting to savour something that I have to let go of. I know the feeling well. At every party or function aboard Voyager I'd always known better than to be the last to leave - instead; I'd dread to outstay my welcome and keep my crew from loosening up. Every minute would seem to rush by and the idea of my dark and silent quarters was enough to complete the proverbial gut-punch. Not long now until I'll be in that situation again; assuring my friends that I should really catch up on sleep, wave off their polite objections and -just as I exit- look back to see Tom pull out the hard liquor. I know he waits out of respect, loyalty even. The same loyalty that's led them back to us now, armed with a cure. _

_If only this was a mere party I'd have to leave behind -not a whole life we hadn't even started living. Departure will be definite this time and we can never return to this place, where the air is thick with possibility and expectation. __It's too soon. _

_One day, two nights, and I'm back on duty. Just one more day. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chakotay's pov:**

My eyes are closed and we don't touch. Still, I know that she hovers over me and that we're one. She'll stay with me. She smiles. Her nose and mouth are millimeters from mine. She's light. She's quiet and tranquil. I don't move because I don't have to; she'll stay.

A hard thump at my right shoulder rudely invades my dream. Cold air fills my nostrils as she's pulled backward into a black mist - as if a monster had realised she'd slipped away from his attention to steal a moment of intimacy with me so he puts an arm around her waist and drags her back into his darkness. I think she stretches her arms out to me.

I want to sleep again, _dammit._ I want to go back to the certainty that she'll stay, back to our eternity of unmovable warmth and safety.

Another thud. I push back with one hand. It's harsh and angry. I roll to my side; my back to the unforgivable intruder and one arm bent over my face.

My brow wrinkles with unrelenting determination - I want her to come back. _Sleep!_

It's no use. My one relief in this godforsaken place is taken from me; the one relief that is the vague unconsciousness I enjoy every night and that I will yearn for during the day. I never know if I've had mere seconds, minutes or hours with her. I hope it's the latter. It doesn't matter though; once it's over, only a hazy sense of Kathryn will remain. No new memories to recollect, no anecdote to unwillingly chuckle over at an unguarded moment, no insightful remark to ponder or gesture to reminisce - no, just the vague perception of a forgotten dream, like a tingling that will itch for the rest of the day until finally, at night, the fleeting vision is back, peaceful and kindly fooling me into believing that seconds are eternal and that she's more than just a ghost.

Tuvok had initially suggested approaching this life the same way as we'd had our first days on Voyager; _get to know the others, work together, find hope in your new life, find strength in routine - but keep your guard up, stay sharp_. At first I thought he had found the right approach to our predicament – or at least a positive frame for this shit-painting. It hadn't proven very helpful; Voyager had been a safe haven from the get go and in no way comparable to our current situation.

Tuvok and I have a bearable -no, _sustainable_ routine. We start the day when guards clatter batons against the bars -_that's not much worse than its Voyager equivalent, actually; the computers voice is far from a mild alarm clock. _We have a morning call, _again; not very unlike Voyager._ We do mind-numbing labor all day; _this is where the similarities end,_ get one tasteless meal a day, _even leola-root-stew was better, _and we end the day by fighting for a place to sleep, clothes to wear and sometimes just for our lives in general;_ apart from Kathryns turn-downs that were proverbial gut punches or the occasional boxing match in the holodeck, Voyager was by no means the place for a fistfight._ I know our cell and its occupants well, _same as on Voyager, _but the characteristics of our current sleeping arrangements are in every way Voyagers opposite. The roofless cell smells, houses too many slaves and every poor soul who's ever been here had apparently felt the need to scratch writings and drawings on the wall. I know the few bricks next to my face by heart; alien writing that I don't understand and some animal that could resemble a horse. I don't want to know this place as I know Voyager. At first I had thought Voyager to be a soulless piece of metal. It had taken a while for me to appreciate its personality. The bioneural circuitry pulses behind the bulkheads as though it's a heartbeat and the worn out carpets reveal where on the ship the most activity is. The patch in front of the Captains readyroom reveals how often she strides through the door, high heeled and decisive. The mess hall-tables and chairs are rearranged every day as a result of dozens of crewmembers walking in and out, sharing meals and grabbing seats to join in on conversations. I both love and hate thinking about Voyager now, but I can't resist indulging in it, again and again. _The burns on the plaque next to the meetingroom, the dents below the helm where Tom braces his feet before impact, the slight, green hue of Borg-enhancements that are poorly hidden and, my favorite, the faint cofeestains below the Captain's chair. _Maybe I do it because I'm afraid to forget. Maybe I do it to escape.

"Commander" he states. Tuvok and I depend on each other, _yet another difference with our previous life. _We lean on each other and we enforce each other - as though we are both one half of an archway. We can't fall apart because then the other might as well. We never get too close though, we're too different for that, but we share a deep respect. We owe it somehow to stick together; we owe it to our crew, to Voyager - our former unity as members of Voyagers crew and maybe our shared loyalty to Kathryn form the keystone to our unlikely arch.

Maybe it's honor that keeps us going. I've always understood honor to be a sense of belonging to something bigger than yourself; the willingness to sacrifice for the greater good, whatever that might be. Tuvok and I belong to Voyagers crew, no- Kathryn's crew. To keep going, in this case, would be a greater sacrifice than to just give up so, I guess, would be the honorable thing to do. So we keep going, mind numbing as it may be, in honor of what Kathryn has made us; a team that never gives up.

"Commander!" Tuvok is more adamant now.

I slowly sit up and nod to signal both my being awake and my surrender to yet another day.

It has already happened before I can rub my eyes to definitely force away my visions of the past. It's dark, not yet morning and I miss the context needed to immediately interpret the situation in front of me. Tuvok is pinned down by 4, 5, no; 6 men. They have matching braids and I know their arms to be covered with rings of permanent red ink. They're a small but violent gang. Tuvok and I; gangless and therefor welcome targets to the red-armed assholes, have been the object of their anger before. I know better than to campaign for help from others; this place has no ethics, hope or companionship, people here only know survival. Fathers betray their sons for one labor-free day. Brothers kill each other in their sleep to steel the others shoes. I want nothing to do with anyone here- _that is as long as they keep their hands off Tuvok. _

It's odd how little sound accompanies this violence. All men know to stay quiet because the addition of guards to any fight will make the situation a worse one for all parties involved -they're known to join in with the winning team, and then punish that winning team for winning. So only hushed coughs, wheezes and moans are heard in the dark, moonlit cell. I can only see the white in Tuvoks eyes and teeth, clenched together and revealed by his pained and twisted grimace.

I'm a former Maquis and a well-trained fighter. I've stood my ground before. I jump on the most aggressive one, slide my hand under his arm and behind his head. I pull his other arm behind his back and upward until I feel his shoulder dislocate. His loud grunt alarms the other red-arms. I elbow a second one in the groin and my fist lands on a face so hard that I feel teeth break. When exactly I had taken position between them and Tuvok I don't know, but I make the most of it, bare my teeth and let out a roar not unlike a wild animal. The fight lasted a few seconds at most. They face the lesson they'd already learned; I'm not one to mess with. They mumble something to hide their defeat and step backward. Their silhouettes melt together with the anonymous cellmates who still pretend to sleep and don't want to get involved.

I kneel next to Tuvok and keep my eyes directed at the darkness where the red-arms had withdrawn into. We say nothing. I finally look into his eyes. They look into mine and move downward. I follow his gaze and see the reflection of a thick liquid on his fingers. He pushes into a wound in this abdomen. It's too dark to see if the blood is arterial or venous and I won't make him remove his hands to check the bloodflow. We both know that the only difference is whether he has minutes or days to bleed to death. Best case scenario: hemorrhagic shock won't occur for several days. Worst case scenario: he's gone in 3 minutes.

I push down on his hand and we both stare at where his wound must be.

I remember wanting to _belong_ on Voyager, not to survive, but to genuinely belong. Those first few days on that state-of-the-art ship were filled with getting the Maquis settled in and living up to the Captains expectations, or maybe her _hopes_ for me -never had I felt an urge to be aloof or keep my distance. I dove in, head first. B'Elanna, although starting off on the Captains wrong foot, found her sentences being finished by Kathryn in no time. I'd pushed my dear friend forward for the post of Chief Engineer and soon felt an odd jab of jealousy; B'Elanna had unknowingly achieved what I hadn't even realized to be a desirable accomplishment -she'd won the Captains genuine interest. She'd flipped a switch and voilà; she'd elicited a spark of life in the woman I hadn't seen before -washed away the businesslike Captain to reveal a passionate one. What a luxury it was to figure out what would intrigue Kathryn. After but a few years I was fairly certain I'd quite gotten the hang of it.

=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\==/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=

_I wonder who will break the silence. I sigh. 0400 hours on the chronometer. It must've been two hours since someone spoke. _

_*beep*_

_I tap the console next to my seat so that it unfolds and shows the incoming message._

_-.-.-.-.__-.-.-.-.__-.-.-.-_

_From: Janeway, K. – Captain_

_To: Chakotay – Commander_

_Subject: ..hard to overstate my excitement_

_Buoy is oozing high-energy protons and atomic nuclei –practically cosmic rays. _

_Definitely (!) worth an extra scan or two – B'Elanna agrees_

_Hang in there._

_Will make this up._

_-K._

_-.-.-.-.__-.-.-.-.__-.-.-.-_

_I sit up, look around and decide to be the one who cheerfully breaks the silence. "Remember everyone; we're making some Federation scientists véry happy with these readings some day." Culhane lets out a sigh and slumps in the pilot's seat. I get up, jog down the step and tap him on the shoulder. "You've had a long shift. Turn in, look active tomorrow." He is quick to stifle a yawn and looks up as though he's a kid that got caught stealing candy. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."_

_I sit down and lay out an encircling flight pattern. I'm glad I suggested this detour. _

=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\==/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=

What would Kathryn think if she saw me now, like this; sitting by her old friend, waiting for him to die. My appreciation for the old Vulcan came too late. My fists were too late to save his life. My legs hadn't been fast enough to get Kathryn to safety on the day that we landed on this planet.

Kathryn, the keystone to the alliance Tuvok and I have formed, had been the first to fall away. What little support Tuvok and I had to offer each other was somehow still standing. Until now.

The archway has caved.


	7. Chapter 7

**JANEWAY'S POV**

It's always easier to say _'my tooth is aching'_ than _'I'm lonely'_, or _'I'm desperate'_. That now holds more true than ever. Any sign of weakness is a victory for them. They won't hear me utter a single word of vulnerability. _Ever._ I'll make sure of that. At first, they were taken aback by my determination to find these 'odd creatures' that I call my friends. Now they just think I'm chasing ghosts. Ferhadji, chief-intendant to the King, has tasked both his guards and himself with finding my lost crewmembers. I take all the help I can get, of course, but we mistrust each other more with every step we get closer to the capital. Everyone around me kneels and smiles while I look behind me, looking the proverbial knife I in my back.

Our journey is long and exhausting, especially because at every stop I get the same answers; "no milady, pointy ears? No, no. A ridged forehead? No, no, milady, I haven't seen such things." People feel obliged to help though, they suggest patrols at the harbor and definitely a sacrifice to god such-and-such. I'm looking for a needle in a haystack and everyone is adding hay - bales at a time. To make matters worse, no one here sees worth in recordkeeping whatsoever. Wardens don't know their prisoners, innkeepers don't know their guests and traders don't know their slaves. Poorhouses and apparently even the gravediggers don't ask too many questions. It would barely be an inconvenience to virtually disappear on this planet.

I sigh a lot. They notice.

The guards are getting less careful and openly stare at me. They're like vultures; waiting for me to crack. As if at any time I could throw my hands in the air and tell them to go to hell - _'No friends, no deal. Find yourself another goddess'_. I can see it in their eyes; they don't understand me, let alone trust me. They don't even let me out of their sight. Ferhadji must think I want to escape before we get to the capital -get away while I still can. He keeps prying, trying out new schemes to get to know me. He sees a change in me, I'm sure. It's getting harder to remain strong and hopeful. I would give anything for a sign of life. I underestimated how much I'd miss my crew.

I have three commbadges though. _Three._ That means at least two others weren't beamed off the planet. Out there, somewhere, I have two friends that I can count on. The badges are safely tucked in a pocket of my robe where no one sees me sliding them through my fingers like pokerchips. I can imagine them surviving the attack. Chakotay was near me, holding me until the last moment; there's a good change he's remained. _Nonsense, _it could be any of them. I could see Harry being captured. _Just his luck._ Maybe Tuvok and B'elanna, they're strong - they all are. I hope they're together.

=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=

_"This is for you."_

_I love the feel of December. I shouldn't have let it pass by._

_"Shouldn't that be under a tree somewhere?" I ask in a serious tone._

_"I doubt you'll find one on board." He matches my business-like demeanor as I sit back in my readyroomchair and pretend to ponder the dilemma. "Besides," he continues "...I hear the command team has a first-contact scheduled for tomorrow morning."_

_I'm shocked "..tomorrow is the 25th?" He doesn't have to reply and just smiles. "Makes sense." I say as I remember today's early shift changes. "Let me guess," I joke, "requests for 'religious accommodation'? "_

_He looks down and chuckles. "I'm very accommodating."_

_"I'm sure." I say with a lopsided smile. "Thank you for this."_

_"Unwrap it later, I'd be embarrassed" He says._

_My hands rest on what is obviously a book. He couldn't have intrigued me more._

_"Embarrassed? What could it be?"_

_He remains confident even under my playful scrutiny and his genuine smile never waivers._

_"You know, Chakotay, it occurs to me- when everyone walks out -straight for the messhall or the holodeck, you walk ín."_

_We share a short silence and although the corners of his mouth are still curled upwards I can tell I've made an end to our light banter. I didn't mean that to happen. He gives an understanding nod and one last smile before he turns away. "Good evening, Kathryn."_

_"Chakotay?" I say just before the door wooshes open and before the lull of bridge-activity comes pouring in._

_I want him to know that I know -that I understand. That I can't describe how dear his gesture is and that it's exactly what I need. That I want him to keep walking in when everyone walks out._

_"Thank you" is all I say._

=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=

I hate being unprepared. An alien scientist in the next star cluster or an anomaly on far-range sensors; damned if the captain hasn't done her homework by the time we get there. Inefficiency and general fuck ups can often be prevented with having the right information at the right time - I'd learned that lesson early on in my career, and it holds even more true when in command of a lost and lone starship in the Delta quadrant. Pulling an all nighter is not a rare occasion for me. I think everyone knows that. Yet, despite all my studies and sleepless nights the universe seems to insist that in my line of work you can never be fully prepared. Well trained, staffed and equipped; _hell yes_. Fully prepared; _dream on_. It's what I love about the job and it's what I hate about it. I'm not sure if I'm still 'on the job'. Regardless, these neural pathways are burned into my brain as if they're set in stone so 'on-the-job- logic' will always be synonymous to my own; I hate being unprepared.

It hits me now, like a slap in the face; I should have experimented with molds -see if this planet has an equivalent to Penicillium.

"Get those _the hell_ away from him." I push a shaman with leeches out of the way and lay my hands on Tuvok's shoulders to rock them. "Tuvok." I shake again. "Tuvok, can you hear me?" His forehead glistens with small, perfectly round drops. His eyes are closed but I can see determination on his face. My fingers search for a heartbeat and I hover my cheek over his nose and mouth: steady breathing. _Thank god for Vulcan endurance._ Time for action.

"Boil cloths, lots of them. Bring me both the water and the cloths." The girls by my side nod vehemently. "-_GO!_ You-" I say as I roll my sleeves "- get me the strongest alcohol you have. You-" the ladies-in-waiting do what they do best; calmly await my orders then scurry off as soon as they've received them."- keep the wound higher than his heart, get cushions. _Go._ You, lift his legs." Unwilling to tear at the dried blood I closely examine Tuvok's shirt and torso; looking for the wound that produced this blood and trying to devise a wise course of action.

"One down. One to go." A deep voice arises from behind the girls that are still fussing over the tasks I had given them. I look up. Ferhadji leans casually against a wall. His smug face is adorned with an ever-present smirk and his turban seems more elaborate with every visit.

"Where did you find him?"

"Where I expected to find him. I know everything, remember?" He pushes himself up and walks around the grand table where the girls and I prepare ourselves to save my oldest friend.

"Left behind by his work party. Left to die. You can't save him, _Fairouz_."

He moves out of my sight. His dark voice pulls me away from Tuvok, to look behind me would be a betrayal -I need to focus. Still, I can't help but investigate.

"Work party?" I ask.

"To meddle with the dying is a nasty business. Please, spare yourself."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes," he says as I feel him behind me, looking over my shoulder. He moves a kerchief to his nose and inhales -even_ I_ can smell its strong perfume. I don't have to see him to know his look is one of disdain.

"My guards arrived just after the chain gang had left for the new temple." He doesn't care. "Chain gang?" I need more information from him but manage to keep my eyes on Tuvok.

A short pause "Why is his blood so... _green_?" I've come to find Ferhadji is always inquisitive, eager to get information out of me -philosophy, math, life on other planets or the universe in general. I would do the same if I were him. I respect his inquisitive mind. He knows by now that I don't humor him, though - we have a deal and that's all that matters. It might be difficult for Ferhadji to find the next crewmember. B'elanna would stand out on this planet, Harry and Chakotay not so much.

A young woman kneels by me and holds up a flask of colorless and odorless liquid. I wash my hands with the drink I know to be as strong as vodka and tell her to get more. Ferhadji moves away as the realization of what I'm about to do dawns on him.

"You see, Fairouz," Ferhadji bows overly deep before he finishes "… I keep _my_ end of the bargain." I wash my hands again and can't help but watch him turn away. "Stop!"I try as he strolls out of my quarters and towards the sun that rises behind one of the palace's gardens. He's playing with me. He knows I'm desperate and lets me linger.

"Sent your guards back tonight." I yell at his back. He walks on and raises his hand in acknowledgement. "I'll be joining them." That pauses him in his tracks. I don't wait to see his next reaction, I have a more important task at hand.

The odd medical emergency during crunch time hasn't exactly prepared me for this. When an EMH yells '_800 Volts, NOW'_ – you simply comply. This 'hands on' kind of procedure would even mortify the doctor though. _'I'm a doctor, not a butcher'_ -I can almost hear him. I inhale, roll my shoulders and wish he was here.

=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=

_**But what is the sense in forever speculating what might have happened had such and such a moment turned out differently?**_

_Another one to overanalyze._

_**But what is the sense in forever speculating... what might have happened... had such and such a moment... turned out... differently?**_

_I put the book down and look at its cover again. 'The remains of the day' it reads - I'd never heard of it. I reread practically every sentence; constantly searching for a hidden meaning. He couldn't possibly mean for me to obsess like this._

_I count the hours I have left to sleep. I'm never pleased with the result of this exercise._

_Maybe Chakotay just wanted to give me a book in a genre that he knows I'd enjoy. Then again; why would he say he'd be embarrassed? Am I missing something?_

_If I doze off in my uniform I save half an hour in the morning. This will be my last chapter. Enthusiasm and interest can be faked; tomorrows first contact will be fine._

_**But what is the sense in forever speculating what might have happened had such and such a moment turned out differently?**_

_If only this was algebra and the unknown variable could be determined, methodically and unavoidably. I'm reading too much into this. Let it go. Just let it go._

_**...it was as though one had available a never-ending number of days, months, years in which to sort out the vagaries of one's relationship with Miss Kenton.**_

_I wonder if he read this -if Chakotay had been sitting in his lounge chair, counting the hours and convincing himself that the disturbingly short night could spare him another chapter. Had Chakotay also been sorting out Miss Kenton's 'vagaries'? Doubtful. Had he also been dreading for the butler to render his dreams irredeemable because of his exaggerated sense of duty?_

_...duty. Damnit. Three hours and 5, no 4 minutes before my next shift. I surrender, lay the book upside down on my footrest and rise to my feet. More later. For now; duty first. _

=/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\= =/\=

"Was he with you?" I move closer to his face. No answer. Maybe it was nothing.

"...Cha...kota.." It's little more than a grunt but Tuvok's meaning is clear this time.

My eyes remain on the Vulcans face as one of the girls next to me takes the clean bandage from my hand. Less than day of caregiving and they already know what to do.

"Shanna!" I yell.

I don't go outside these walls and I don't meet people I'm not supposed to meet. The instructions were clear. It's an unbroken rule.

Shanna's small round face pops out from around a corner. "Find a plain mantle," I tell her, never letting my eyes wander from Tuvok "-and something to cover my face. We're going out."


End file.
